Alps, Paddles and Stiff Trouts

I’ve been uneasy ever since I made the entry in the itinerary for Slemenova špica 😭🫣😳 Elevation Gain: Approx. 350–400
meters. I had planned on becoming so very fit like the rest of the tribe but best laid plans and motivation all mysteriously went astray.

Still, I strapped on my $20 secondhand boots (planning to donate tomorrow to the town) prepared our packs and our nerve and Passated through the hairpinned Vrsic pass to the feet of the giant mountain ⛰️

Info: from Kranjska Gora to Boveç: The Vršič Pass (1,611m) is Slovenia's highest road pass, renowned for its 50 hairpin turns and deep connections to WWI rather than WWII, having been built by Russian POWs between 1915–1917.

Adding to the drama was the very narrowness of the pass but our fearless driver Mannie handled it with ease, despite my squawks and gasps from the backseat! Mind you I did have 101 kg and a fat suitcase pressing on me squeezed next to Eric in the middle of the backseat.

The time came to see if I was made of more than Irish bluff and Dutch courage and we tentatively approached the start, where a large group of very fit looking young hikers were jostling to be the first to show off their fitness and prowess.

The dyspnea started much earlier than anticipated and the terror of being the weakest link forced me to puff and pant and gasp through the 200m climb on crumbly limestone. To the relief of my fellow scramblers I did not have air enough to complain. But reach the summit we did and our reward was to photograph (at long length) the very fit and young bunch of Latvian hikers!

I had achieved the summit, and not embarrassed myself, in spite of the ill-fitting, cheap boots and lack of oxygen and fitness.

But what we faced… a towering cathedral ring of mountains, soft patches of white snow clinging to ledges and ridges and an icy beenie-defying wind whispering tales of long forgotten bravery and solitude.

But then there was the ice. Foot deep, slushy and very slippery! Our sneakers improvising into skates, we hesitantly slid further down the track, our sandle-clad tribe member dancing with the cold toes.

An impromptu health and safety meeting ensued and with changed the conditions the only risk left to eliminate was going forward. Ha! My relief was immediate and total. We retraced steps and began the knee jolting, toe changing slide down the scree, still hailing the majesty of the blue church of stone.

As if we hadn’t used enough adrenaline already, the tribe were mad keen for an afternoon of being tossed in a storm of raging white water. Lunch was quickly inhaled and we were picked up in a flashy van and taken to not the newest shed, where a young assistant scrolled and tapped my phone, nodding and then we parted with €275 🤑. A wetsuited ‘guru’ threw overall-shaped wetsuits, helmets and boots at us and after pinning our countries on a world map we careened in our green van to the rapids.

After the briefest of briefings and raft seating allocation we were floating on calm green swirls and educated on “forward” “back” and “stop” with the volume issuing determining how hard and urgent we needed to row.

The Dachstein limestone rocks beneath and above us artfully created a striking emerald-green and turquoise color, driven by limestone particles (rock flour) reflecting light in the water: I was in colour heaven!

About halfway we pulled up at a big rock, flipped the raft on top and proceeded to slippery slide down the raft to crash into the icy verdant swirl (Eric the grey included) The group already occupying the large rock failed to follow instructions and four giggling helmets could be seen floating away down the stream, and had to be rescued. Needless to say after the shock of ice hitting the face it was a big priority to surface and madly flail to grab the rope and haul your wet rubber weight out of the freeze.

We then progressed to the more dangerous rapid levels 3 and 4 which resulted in louder yelling, frantic paddling and much bouncing into boulders. One more violent bounce proved too much for my small feet purchased in the footstraps and airborne I became.

Thankfully I recalled the previous instruction to hurl yourself in the boat and landed on the bottom, still with paddle in hand. Our authoritative local guide gave praise but I really think it was more that he had given good instructions.

With no further close calls we safely arrived in calmer waters, with the tribe celebrating with a wrestle and dunking match in the still freezing aqua playpark.

Trout being the celebrated local fare we ordered differing styles of serving from the menu, the local creation consisting of a long, stiff, salt crusted, unappealing looking offering but looks aren’t everything and we thoroughly enjoyed our postrv!!Read more